Chapter 21 #2
His filthy, damning words have me practically falling over the edge, all by themselves.
Because there is nothing, nothing hotter than knowing that, after all these years of struggling temptation and confusion and shame and mystery and mortification, I’m powerless and wide open for these men and oh-so-ready for them to use me and corrupt me.
Rafe’s words are designed to make me feel sick with shame, but he presumably knows as well as I do that I’ll take that shame and harness it and embrace the edge it gives me.
He knows it’s the very fact that I’ve been told, over and over and over, that behaviour like this is wrong and dirty and sinful that will have me hurtling towards the most intense kind of orgasm when I give in.
‘I know it’s a mortal sin,’ I say breathily, ‘but I can’t help it. I need it. I want to be corrupted.’
‘Fuck, yes,’ Callum says. ‘Better give this dirty little nun what she needs, Father.’
‘I intend to,’ Rafe says, and with that, he puts his tongue on me.
It’s a long lick, following the path his finger traced moments ago, and it’s nowhere near what I need, but because he’s holding me wide open it feels like he hits every possible nerve-ending in my entire nether region, and it’s bloody amazing.
Indescribable.
Rafe Charlton is actually licking me there.
He groans against my flesh.
‘How is she?’ Callum asks. He bends and kisses me, which I’m not expecting, but having his tongue invade my mouth at the same time as his hands are on my breasts and Rafe’s tongue is working magic on my lower body feels full and right. I moan into his mouth.
‘She tastes like sin,’ Rafe says, ‘and I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stop.
’ He gives me one long, rough lap. ‘She is every fucking temptation in the book, right here.’ His finger finds my entrance again and thrusts inside me hard.
I flinch, but I’m already addicted to this feeling.
‘I want to fuck her. Badly. She’s begging to be flipped over and fucked from behind while you fuck her mouth. ’
Another long lick. He flickers his tongue over my clit in a manner that has my mouth opening in a wide O of disbelief that anything, ever, could feel this good. Or that anyone could be this skilled at talking dirty while winding me tighter and tighter with his magical tongue.
Callum groans. ‘Jesus, yeah. I want to fuck this mouth.’ He rolls my nipples hard as he plunges his tongue into my mouth.
Rafe adds a second finger, and oh wow. It’s very, very tight and definitely uncomfortable.
‘Breathe,’ he orders me.
I obey him, and the stretching sensation eases a little.
‘She’s so tight,’ he pants out. ‘Can’t even imagine what it would be like to fuck this.’
And then his tongue is back on me, and the fullness of his fingers inside me makes every sensation a million times more intense. A million times better.
‘Fuck, her clit is swollen,’ he groans to Callum. ‘She’s so fucking eager. Does it feel good, Belina? This is what sinning feels like. Does it feel good?’
‘It feels… it feels,’ I manage, as Callum pulls away to allow me to speak, but I’m spinning out of control.
Rafe chuckles and keeps working me. Teasing me.
He circles my clit with his tongue. He runs it down to soothe my very stretched entrance, then back up.
He laps it roughly, and I practically blow.
Callum’s kissing me, so I can’t speak, but I push against Rafe’s tongue and moan loudly to convey my desperation for release.
‘She’s close,’ Rafe says, and Callum obliges by upping the ante of his kisses and his fingers on my nipples.
Rafe pulls his fingers out and shoves them back in, hard, at the same time as he laves me roughly, rhythmically with this tongue, and he hits the spot again and again and again and I’m spiralling higher and higher and higher, heat flooding my entire body as these two guys continue their sensory onslaught on me.
I don’t know where my orgasm begins and ends.
It’s technicolour and electrifying and staggering.
The waves of pleasure course over me, on and on.
And as they begin to subside, so do the ministrations of the men.
Rafe lessens the ferocity of his licks and slides his fingers out of me.
I’m vaguely aware, through my blinding sunspots and the deafening sound of my own breath, that he’s sucking his fingers into his mouth and groaning.
Callum’s pinches ease, and he covers my breasts with his palms and presses down gently as I descend.
I’m shaking as I recover. I should be self-conscious now that the madness has passed, but I’m too limp. Too spent. Too utterly blissed out.
Rafe steps off the bed. ‘There’s no way you’re coming back from this, Belina,’ he says.
I shake my head. ‘No.’
‘Here’s the deal. We’ll tell your Mother Superior you passed your test. You weren’t interested. But we know the truth. You’re a dirty little whore who needs cock. I think we just found our newest recruit to keep the priests happy.’
Despite my earth-shattering orgasm, my entire body thrills at his words, at his suggestion of a scenario where I’m the plaything of a stable of frustrated priests. I think that’s probably been every fantasy I’ve ever had.
‘Next time,’ Callum says, ‘you’re going to get it. You’re lucky I didn’t ram my cock down your mouth.’
I glance at his crotch and notice for the first time that he’s hard.
But when I look back at Rafe, that bulge has grown bigger and his face is that of a man who’s reached his limit.
He’s every inch the conflicted man of the cloth in this moment, his gorgeous body clad all in black, the dog collar gleaming in the light of that crucifix, and his beautiful, staggering face strained. Tormented.
He bends over me to grab the tie at my wrists, then looks at Callum. ‘Clear off.’
Callum blinks. ‘Mate. I’m—’
‘Save it,’ Rafe barks. He glances down at me, and I gaze back at him like a needy puppy. ‘Got your safe word?’
‘Alchemy,’ I squeak.
‘Good.’ He jerks his head at Callum. ‘I said, clear off.’